Bryce Canyon in Winter

Bryce in winter is sublime. Red and orange hoodoos draped and dappled with white snow present a fantasy land of forms and shapes, patterns and abstracts. Stark trees framed against undulating snow coax compositions impossible in warmer months. Cloudy, cold skies force a different photographic approach to the landscape, as well as briskly encourage you to keep moving and generate some heat. Serendipity is with you ... or not. Having just returned from Bryce Canyon National Park I can share some tips.

To start with, Ruby's Inn is really your best choice for lodging. They offer special, very low winter rates and have the only open restaurant "in town" during that season. The rooms are nice, spacious, feature a refrigerator and microwave and have free Internet for those interested in immediately sharing images (as I was). 

One of the beauties of Ruby's Inn is that it is but 5 minutes from the park entrance with perhaps another 5 minutes to the first two prime viewpoints: Sunrise and Sunset. These two viewpoints coupled with Inspiration and Bryce, comprise the quadriad of viewpoints over the main amphitheater. For our two mornings in Bryce we chose Sunset and Inspiration, though you really can't go wrong setting up in any of the 4 viewpoints. The lowest of the points, Sunset puts you closer into the amphitheater with views both north (to Sunrise) and south (to Inspiration and Bryce, in order). You can also drop down a few meters or so on the Navajo Loop trail and catch first light on Thor's Hammer. It is a small viewpoint so with a lot of photographers I would find it untenable to maneuver (I like to shoot sunrises/sunsets with two bodies with different focal length lens on two tripods). I really liked Inspiration Point. There are three main "platform" viewpoints separated by a long ridge line. I actually choose the ridge line about 15 meters above the mid-platform. It afforded me an incredible panoramic view of the amphitheater but also allowed me to shoot south towards Bryce Point. I also loved the fact that I had a few tall pines that I could use as framing objects. Finally, not being bound by platform railing permitted to shift my tripods at will. Oh yes: did I mention that no one intruded upon my space!


We arrived at the viewpoints each morning about a half hour before the sun rose. This allowed setup time, but more importantly, I love shooting the pre-dawn light and both mornings it was sublime.


(A word about clothing: bring plenty and layer. Cover your head and hands as well. I love my pair of REI mitten/gloves that allow the mitten part to slip up just exposing the finger tips for working with the camera controls. Even then, my hands got cold at times.) 


After sunrise, the place to be is down in hoodoos. The morning light (as well as the late afternoon) glows amongst the tall red rock spires. You want to capture that. The Navajo Loop is very nice but I really enjoyed the varying landscape and compositional possibilities along the Queen's Garden Trail. I used a variety of focal lengths -- 12-70mm -- as well as my infrared cameras. I was able to obtain some very effective images with the use of the latter. There are times when the stark contrast provided by IR produces far more striking photographs than conventional cameras. Additionally, we had one day of near-total overcast. It was a flat, non-colourful, "B&W day" and I chose to explore it predominately with IR. 

There is more to the park than the 4 main viewpoints and the amphitheater below them. The road extends another 15 miles south ending at the 1000 foot higher viewpoints of Rainbow and Yovimpa. The view south to Arizona from these points is amazing though unfortunately Navajo Mountain was shrouded in some bilious coal plant plumes. I was surprised and disappointed to see that. 


There are numerous view spots to stop at on the drive south, but frankly if you are time-limited, you'll be better served (photographically-speaking) by staying north. In fact just north of the main amphitheater is another fascinating area: the Fairyland Trail. During the summer the 8+ mile trail can be completed in 3-4 hours but with snow the going is slo-o-o-o-w. We hiked the short section to Tower Bridge from Sunrise Point. The destination was a wee bit underwhelming but the journey was incredible. You quickly descend into a fantasy land of strange walls and pillars separated by silent fields of snow. We saw not a soul.


Before dropping into the various basins inquire at the park ranger station as to the condition of the trails. I brought my snowshoes (they weren't needed where we went) but unfortunately left my Yak-Tracks at home. I really could have used the latter as there were quite a few icy patches with a steep pitch down-slope if you were not mindful. Since the last snow had been 10 days or so before our arrival, the trails were relatively well-packed and easy to follow. I would not want to be breaking trail or route-finding in fresh snow, however.


Sunsets are somewhat of a non-event in Bryce. The amphitheater is in shadow, though the light on the Aquarius Plateau to the east can be stunning. I chose to be below Sunrise Point both evenings and the light was photogenically soft though there was no super dramatic sunset ops. The ranger informed as that a lot of photographers go to Red Canyon (west on Hwy 12, some 10 miles or so) for sunset shots. It seems the angle is better-suited for the sundown...next time perhaps.


One suggestion: for the early-to-mid-morning and the mid-to-late afternoon wanderings through the hoodoos, you will encounter deep shadows. If you have never tried HDR photography, this would be a good time. Three-to-five shot brackets of 1.5EV will provide you with a wealth of dynamic range to play with. Even if you don't do HDR, think about bracketing. More often than not I found that the snow threw my internal meter off and I needed to shoot between +0.5 and +1.5EV.


Finally, whether tangled up in the hoodoos, or high above surveying them from a viewpoint, think about pan shots. Whether you stitch or have a dedicated panoramic camera Bryce is a pan-maven's paradise. I brought our my now-discontinued Hasselblad XPan II and shot a whole roll between 8 and 10 am.


I've always wanted to see and shoot Bryce in the winter. The weather gods treated us well and we were thusly rewarded. Hopefully you will be also.

Avoiding the Cliché

There are many beautiful photographs of the world's icons, be they natural or man-made. How many gorgeous shots of the Eiffel Tower or Taj Mahal or Machu Picchu have you seen? Closer to (my) home, how about sumptuous images of a Mesa Arch sunrise (upper-left) or Delicate Arch at sunset (lower-left)? As an aspiring (emerging, struggling -- yes, they all apply!) photographer, there are times when I look at some of the masters' works and despair (see Ansel Adams' Yosemite collection for just one obvious example). But, you have to fight that "why bother" mentality and continue to try and create something striking, meaningful, well-executed and yes, perhaps even unique (while avoiding the well-trod clichés).

Those adjectives do not always seem to be in congruence. Intent must be factored in. Understand why you are shooting this particular landmark. Is it for fine art purposes, stock agency, your portfolio or a personal project, editorial or marketing assignment, etc.? What are the requirements? What do you hope the outcomes will be? If you are on assignment the client may have provided a clear idea of what she wants and your creative tendencies may be necessarily constrained. Or maybe you are "just shooting" and don't know what the end use of the images will be. Regardless, try and bring those four adjectives into one image: striking (attractive, compelling, makes someone stop and say "wow" or maybe even "huh?"), meaningful (a pretty picture is just that, but a meaningful image will resonate at a deeper level, even if it only means something to you, the artist), well-executed (the technical part: composition, lighting, post-processing...does it all add up? Do the pieces work together?), and unique (Have you avoided the standard view? Are you being creative or repetitive?).

For every nugget of wheat, a field of chaff. So too with iconic images. Avoid snap-shooting, take the time to "read" the location and work at it. There will be occasions when the first three elements may come together easier while you struggle for that sense of uniqueness. In those cases, shoot the standard, "money" shot: at the least you may have something that is salable. But, you also may find that uniqueness is the child of post-processing.

Ansel Adams too spent a long time in his darkroom.

If Mr. Claus was Fully Employed in 2009...

Let's imagine the various agents (titans and minions alike) that run (and are run by) our financial empire were able to control their greed, perspective and the genie that was let out of the regulatory bottle. Let's suppose the Great Recession didn't happen and the fully and gainly employed numbers were increased by just one. Let's pretend that money is (almost) no object and that Santa was feeling especially generous this Christmas. Let my imagination run amok and daydream about what would be most cool to find under the tree tomorrow? Yes, photo gear no doubt would rate highly.


Being an avid Pentax user (are there any more of us out there?) I would love to find a K-7 waiting for me, especially now that Mrs. Claus can buy it at a reduced price at B&H Photo. Based on what I've read, this body is a significant improvement in a number of ways on the K20 which was a quantum jump over the previous K10. I own both of the latter but would like to have both of my primary shooters as similar in resolution as the K7 and K20 are (both 14.6 mp).




I have a pretty complete flight of lens for my Pentaxes but there are a few gaps that are begging to be filled. One of those is a fast, "normal," auto-focus prime lens that is a super portrait performer and allows creative opportunities for compositional and bokeh wing-stretching. Either the Pentax 55mm f/1.4 or the Sigma 30mm f/1.4 would make this photo-camper oh so happy. Another lens I have been eying for some time is Sigma's 10-20 f/3.5. Yes, I know I have Sigma's 12-24mm and it is a very nice lens with an incredible sweep of perspective. But the 10-20 is faster with a fixed aperture and importantly permits the use of filters on the end of the objective. All good reasons for Santa to drop one under my drooping tree.




I would also love a lens to cover the range 18-135mm or even 18-250mm. For Pentax photographers the choices are pretty much relegated to Sigma: either the 18-125mm f/3.8-5.6 or perhaps the 18-250mm f/3.5-6.3. Either of these lens -- and especially the latter -- would allow me to walk-about with one one or two less lenses. That counts when traveling abroad or hiking in the desert.




There is finally a point-and-shoot for photographers: the Leica D-Lux 4 and yes, it is high on my list. It's not cheap, but it is a Leica and based on everything I have seen and read, it is a mighty tiny camera.
















Of course any digital photographer these days needs post-processing power. I drum my fingers waiting for my old (last year's model) PC running XP to process my 40MB HDR files, not to mention my 120MB TIFF scans. So, yes, I would also like an Apple Mac Pro...preferably the 3GHz 8-core model with 12GB RAM...please...oh and maybe the 30" Apple Cinema Monitor?




















I think I just tipped the balance with that last request and I don't want to be on Santa's Bad Karma list. It's easy to daydream but some of the above will indeed creep into my kit bags. For this Christmas I'll make due just fine with my current gear and computers and the lot and just settle for one little old thing under the tree...

Return to Zion National Park, Part IV

We had already captured two sunrises that were beautiful, but essentially very similar: gray-purple pre-dawn glow
giving way suddenly to a glorious orangish glow followed by the bright white of day. No clouds to give a brilliant pyrotechnic orgy of color with harkened angels singing hallelujah. The forecast was the same (no clouds) so that, coupled with Dan's overworked knee, persuaded us to sleep in. Relatively speaking...

We had one destination this last morning in Zion: return to the Horseshoe bend and photograph the beauty of the riparian curve prior to the harsh light dropping upon it. Fortunately that deep swath of the Virgin River -- below Angel's Landing -- stays in shadow long after the sun has officially risen. We pulled into the large parking lot just after 8:30 took separate paths down to the river and consequently worked the river individually and in our own private fashion. For me, I wandered upstream and with the aid of my (almost) knee-high mud boots crossed to an island (of sorts) and was able to set up for some very nice shots of both the upriver cliffs in golden light and the deeper shadows down river toward the Great White Throne.

Eventually I worked my way to where Dan was: shooting an old fallen tree that we had "discovered" two days earlier, when we had first visited this area. It is a scenic beauty of a downed giant, with whitened trunk and branches reaching plaintively to the far cliffs, or so it seemed to me. Regardless, the tree made a wonderful subject to work around and photograph from various angles, some images and angles more interesting than others. The sun continued to creep down the high cliff walls and we felt that we had played out this certain bit of heaven on earth as much as we could: it was time for our 'ritual' of real coffee at the Mean Bean Coffee House before checking out of both our motel and Zion National Park.

For a final photo op, we stop at what remains of the Mormon ghost town of Grafton. Of the 4 buildings still extant, the schoolhouse-cum-church and the Alonzo and Nancy Russell Home -- the latter a two-story ranch house with quite a bit of square footage for a town of this size -- are in the best condition. Across from the Russell home is a more ramshackle structure identified as the Louisa Foster Russell Home. It would be forgettable but for the original adobe fireplace that still stands. A last stop at the graveyard on the way out of town reminds me of just how tenuous life was a mere century and a quarter ago: killed by Indians, taken by diphtheria, drowning, a swing accident (!) that killed two teenage girls, etc. A lot of tragedy for such a small town, but hopefully leavened with a fair dose of happiness and the simple pleasures that were unique to Western frontier life.



Dan spins some classic 70's rock on our way home (Supertrtamp, Steely Dan, Lee Michaels, Malo) and I ponder why it took me so long to return to Zion. Twenty-seven years between visits is a bit much. I could say that it has something to do with the NPS' anti-dog policy. Or the fact that the Parks can be incredibly overrun with tourists. Or, that I had been seeking a more primitive experience that is better sought and realized in Wilderness Areas. Or maybe that we have been having too much of good time exploring Europe. Or, I could just say "stuff happens," leave go of over-analyzing, and promise to return NEXT year. Yeah, that works.

Return to Zion National Park, Part III

Another early morning, another bad pot of coffee. Regardless, we're out the door by 6:15 with our destination just 10 minutes up the road: Courtyard of the Patriarchs.

I was set to scramble down to the river for what I thought would be some nice valley-and-river sunrise shots, but Dan gently suggested that we head up the hill behind us for a grander view of the Patriarchs. And, yes: he was right. A short asphalt 'trail' leads to a viewpoint -- already manned by a photographer -- so we clambered up higher and higher. We finally reached a glorious spot probably 100 meters higher than the road, unobstructed by trees (no mean feat) with almost a 180° view of the ramparts in front of us. We had again arrived in time to capture the pre-dawn glow I so like. Soon the sun's rays hit the top of the cliffs and how quickly the light changed. From a soft, warm, orange-ish fuzz to bright yellow and quickly (too quickly!) -- once the shadow curtain has completely fallen -- to a harsh white light. I capture the progression of the sun's path on the far walls in both color and IR, before we and the dawn quit.

Down the hill and to the Virgin River we go, as I originally wanted. Good thing that Dan suggested uphill for the sunrise: the view of the Patriarchs was significantly blocked from the river side. I capture a few nice reflections in the rapidly flowing river and manage to lose one of my tripod's rubber foots in the soft, enveloping mud. (Note to tripod manufacturers: do something about this. Do I have to super glue all of those rubber buggers?)

Next stops, the ranger station to pick up a permit for The Subway and then some real coffee again at Mean Bean Coffee House. The Subway has become one of those iconic locations that we so love to discovery and then love to death. What Delicate Arch is to Arches National Park, The Subway is becoming to Zion, or so I submit. In its favor, it is a slog of a hike from the Left Fork trail head, as I find our fairly quickly. This and the permitting system which limits the number of people in the canyon on a daily basis, prevents hoards of casual hikers from cluttering up the view and experience. A short 15 minutes from the trailhead we start the steep 250 meter descent to the Left Fork of North Creek. The guidebooks suggest you wander upstream looking for trails on either side of the fortunately low creek. We do this and it is a slow 4 mile hike to the first set of miniature falls that mark the near-beginning of The Subway proper.

The creek itself is beautiful with high sandstone walls on either side that keep us almost perpetually in the shade. We see occasion rockfalls that look quite recent and I am reminded how nothing is static; that this landscape is dynamic, just on a scale difficult for us to appreciate. We encounter a fellow explorer/photographer at the first set of small cascading falls. Up until this point the solitude was sublime. Proceeding a bit further upstream we encounter another photographer who has lugged a heavy 8 x 10 large format camera and has it positioned with his almost equally heavy tripod over a joint in the sandstone that is overflowing with rushing water.


Around the corner lies The Subway, certainly one of the most amazing canyons I have seen. The approach to the narrow funnel is long and I can only wonder at the force of water that courses through during flash floods. Dan tells me that the log in in this image was further upstream the last time he was here.




The pools coupled with the strangely warm glow of the Subway itself make extremely compelling photographic subjects. I spend well over an hour within a 10 meter square area composing and shooting long exposures, trying to capture the unique nature of this space. The rock is wet, slick and tricky to walk on and soon my feet are chilled to the bone (as they say) and I need to seek the sun of the outer canyon while Dan works his 4 x 5. The day grows long and based on Dan's previous experience (best left to him to tell) and advice, you don't want to be caught in the canyon after dusk, so we begin to head downstream.

Some of the cascades are still partially in the sun and make interesting visual compositions but the dappled nature of the water and rock don't translate well via a camera.
However, the sun continues to drop and we reach a stretch of shaded creek that is absolutely gorgeous and amazingly rich with copper tones. Dan has to practically drag me away from the scenes and the logical part of my brain says "go, fly with the light!" or some such poetic nonsense.



The slog out is long but our way is helped by the discovery that the main section of the unmaintained trail stays pretty much on the right-side (faced downstream) of the creek and so our journey is quicker than our way in. Nonetheless, the sun has already set by the time we reach the base of the cliffs and the steep climb out of the canyon. Up, up, up we go.

I pass a young man sitting on a rock who asks for water (which I give, having drank little of it myself) and wonders aloud whether he can make it. I tell him that he is less than 45 minutes from the trailhead and victory will surely be his soon. (The drill sergeant in me wants to add: "if you stop complaining, get off yer arse and start putting one foot in front of the other!" - but, I refrain.)

Once on top, the last 1/2 hour goes quickly but not without a wee bit of confusion. In the gloom of post-dusk, my night-adjusted eyes can follow the trail through the junipers with no problem until I reach a wash where tracks go in every which direction. I can't really recall the wash when we hiked in some 6 hours earlier, but I make a decision to continue out of the wash on the now faint and fading trail, which of course turns out to be the correct decision. At the trailhead, wishing for a beer (ALWAYS pack a cooler with beer for trail's end, dude!) I watch the moonrise and capture a last night shot.

Dan's knee is killing him (2 weeks shy of surgery) and so it's an early night and dinner back at the motel restaurant, the Switchback Grill. Not bad at all and the beer is cold.

Return to Zion National Park, Part II

The time change (fall back!) contributed to the early morning freshness I was feeling when the alarm rang at 5:15 (O'dark-thirty!). The terrible in-room coffee left the proverbial bitter taste in my mouth but did the trick, further contributing to my wakefulness. (Note to hotels: not all Americans prefer the stale, acrid but thin brew you so quaintly label Coffee!)

Out the door at 6:15, the goal was to capture the early light and sunrise on the Towers of the Virgin, just behind the old Visitor's Center (now administrative offices and a museum). Dan warned me that other photographers would likely be there and he was right. The meadow was large and the tripodists but a handful, so no one appeared in anyone else's viewfinder, that I was aware of anyway. The pre-dawn light was smooth, soft and cast a warm glow on the mammoth rock face before us. I'm always amazed at the amount of light that can be gathered before the sun rises or after it has set. Don't wait for the sunbeams...the light is already there! As evidenced by this 4 second exposure.

In fact, though the sun elicited an a-ha effect when finally its rays shone on the sandstone ramparts, the quiet, even early light is what I favor. Nonetheless, as the light curtain continued to crawl down the canyon walls we kept shooting, documenting the growing dramatic contrast between bright, orange-ish cliffs and the dark foreground.

I process most of these shots to reveal some foreground detail, so contrast is dialed back a bit. Infrared images, however, have no such latitude. Deep, inky blacks and brightly lit rock produce chiaroscuro drama unrivaled in color.
Once the orange light began turning to a more prosaic white, we packed up our gear and headed to the Mean Bean Coffee House for some REAL coffee and an apricot scone.

Replenished our next photo stop was back up the canyon, where the river makes a large horseshoe around Angel's Landing. Called the Big Bend, the Virgin has cut a graceful river bottom ripe with cottonwoods. Longish exposures and the use of HDR photography allow me to capture bright, high cliffs and their reflections in the smoothly flowing but dark waters. We find an old uprooted tree that has much character. These are the kinds of "props" that you find, without knowing that you are looking for them.










Morning moves on and so must we: to the Narrows we go...Wandering up the short Riverside Walk -- the 'civilized' stroll path that leads to the Narrows proper -- we look in vain for a stray red maple or two. Instead we stop to photograph a rich -- in texture and contrast -- weeping wall. This is perfect fodder for B&W photography and Dan begins the arduous, 20 minute process of setting up his 4x5 field camera for a shot, or perhaps two. He draws many comments from passersby and being the patient and pleasant guy that he is, happily answers questions that I'm sure he's answered countless times before. As he is fielding questions and setting up for his shot (or two, mayhaps), I blithely click away with both my Pentax K20D DSLR and my infrared-sensitive Fuji IS-1. Both smallish cameras, I feel like the little kid with a cheap plastic toy truck standing next to his older sibling with his solid die-cast monster Tonka dump truck. A slight feeling of inadequacy that would be called. I get over it and am relatively happy with a shot.

Just before the Narrows we find a wonderful stretch of the river that offers multiple opportunities to capture water crashing through a rollicking tumble of boulders. It's amazing how the proverbial time flies: we easily spend 45 minutes in a 15 square meter space shooting the river from different angles and directions. Non-photographers may not "get it," (though certainly their spouses have had to put up with it!), but if the light is good (to be defined at the time and place), hours can be spent in one relatively small space exploring lines, shapes, colors and contrasts.

The intention is not to explore the confines of the Narrows-- we'll leave that for another day, another trip. Instead, after a quick lunch, we back to what I now call the Glowing Wall ravine, off of the road to Checkerboard Mesa. Once there, Dan has in mind a series of B&W compositions with his 4x5 of a large dead tree. That occupies him for the better part of an hour as I wander up above the ravine and look for lines, angles and shapes.


Since we know what to expect now for sunset: glorious dying sun colors and the silver dollar orb of a luminous full moon, by later afternoon we are again set up in 'our' Checkerboard Mesa spot. In time to catch some glowing light reflecting off of the etched sandstone edifices...just before the moon begins its westward rise and journey.

We are further rewarded when shortly Earth's satellite begins its arc. I quickly realize that my Sigma 18-50mm is not going to yield the images I want and grab my Pentax K10D which I fortuitously had pre-mounted with my Sigma 50-500mm on a separate tripod (really, you can never have too many camera bodies, lenses or tripods!).

The moon is stunning in its size and clarity and I shoot well past the fading golden glow.

We are both looking forward to that first beer and meal, whatever it may be. But before heading back into Springdale, I convince Dan to pull off the road just past Canyon Junction so that we can do some moon-washed photography. Never having done this before, I help Dan with some settings on his camera (always good to help a pro!), and we take some shots of canyon walls just before the moon crests over the east ridge (such as this purplish 30-second exposure) followed by some shots of the west walls when the moon is finally bathing them in its reflected light and the stars are shining in the deepening skies. The results are always stunning and Dan is amazed that his sensor can yield such images, in such diffused light.


It's finally time for that aforementioned beer and tasty dinner at the top-notch (but not terribly expensive) Flangan's Inn & Restaurant. It's been a long, but rewarding day. I don't know it yet, but tomorrow will be even richer.